Read Online The Stockholm Syndicate by Colin Forbes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Colin Forbes
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disturbed your beautiful setting."
"I want to know what's going on and quickly or the food will be ruined."
"You heard the conversation."
"Which was in code. First of all, where is Jock now? It sounds as though things are moving."
"Jock was at our sub-base near the station, although by now I expect he'll be on his way to the Château Wardin."
She glanced at her watch to check the cooking time and perched herself on his lap. For "mobile cargo" I read Litov - who's going to be dropped at Brussels Midi and allowed to run. I'm worried we'll lose him."
"Hence my reference to "an all-round escort", the full-scale dragnet I want Jock to throw round all Litov's possible escape routes - because elude us he will try to do. And, since he will assume we're tracking him, we must trick him into thinking that he's succeeded. Then see where he leads us. Tomorrow will be a big day. Satisfied?"
"Not yet." She caressed the side of his face with her scoop as she continued. "What about your reference to "the floating fuel store"? Is that the steam yacht, Firestorm ? It is? And where is she now?"
"Midway between Scotland and the mouth of the Baltic. I've kept her ready there since I first heard the phrase "Stockholm Syndicate". Jock will radio her to take on board provisions, check weapons and ammunition, above all equip her with a team of gunners. He's going to have a busy night is Jock. And now I'm hungry."
"You always are. It's chicken - cooked the way you like it. I suppose tomorrow we'll watch them plotting Litov's movements on the map."
"More than that. Later tomorrow we're visiting the Fixer in Bruges. He may be able to tell us who is the real power behind the Stockholm Syndicate."
Chapter Five
The Fixer. Dr. Henri Goldschmidt, dealer in rare coins, was one of Bruges' most eminent citizens. Beaurain estimated his present age at about sixty but could only guess - the doctor guarded his private life jealously and you dared not ask him the wrong question. The penalty was to be instantly crossed off his list of social acquaintances.
"They are excluded from my milieu ," he once explained. "And, of course, once excluded they can never be re-admitted."
He spoke eight languages fluently, including French, English and German; he also used his finely-shaped hands to aid his flow of conversation, gesturing with controlled deliberation to emphasize a point. He was the confidant of royalty, American millionaires and French industrialists. Less well-known was the fact that he was on good terms with some of Europe's top gangsters. This was the man Beaurain was going to meet.
One hour before dawn the huge Sikorsky helicopter took off from the Château Wardin. Litov - who had endured his last 'interrogation' at the hands of Dr. Alex Carder - was lying on a stretcher, as on the 'outward' journey, his damaged arm expertly protected with a splint and bandages and his left wrist and ankle handcuffed to the stretcher. His right ankle was also manacled.
There were two guards in the gunners' normal battle uniform - denim trousers, crepe-soled shoes, windcheaters and Balaclava helmets which completely masked their appearance. One was Stig Palme. The second was a twenty-nine year old German, Max Kellerman. A year earlier he had been looking forward to a brilliant career as a lawyer. Then his fiancée had been caught in terrorist crossfire when the police had been tipped off about a bank raid in Bonn. They were still unaware that the tip-off had come from Jules Beaurain. It was something he had also concealed from Kellerman, as he had once explained to Louise.
If Kellerman knew I started the whole thing off he might blame me for the death of his fiancée."
Litov had been blindfolded before he left the large cell he had occupied for over a week. Once again he was relying on sound and his sense of smell to double-check what he had learned about Telescope's main base. The same bonfire smoke had hit his nostrils when they carried him from the
"I want to know what's going on and quickly or the food will be ruined."
"You heard the conversation."
"Which was in code. First of all, where is Jock now? It sounds as though things are moving."
"Jock was at our sub-base near the station, although by now I expect he'll be on his way to the Château Wardin."
She glanced at her watch to check the cooking time and perched herself on his lap. For "mobile cargo" I read Litov - who's going to be dropped at Brussels Midi and allowed to run. I'm worried we'll lose him."
"Hence my reference to "an all-round escort", the full-scale dragnet I want Jock to throw round all Litov's possible escape routes - because elude us he will try to do. And, since he will assume we're tracking him, we must trick him into thinking that he's succeeded. Then see where he leads us. Tomorrow will be a big day. Satisfied?"
"Not yet." She caressed the side of his face with her scoop as she continued. "What about your reference to "the floating fuel store"? Is that the steam yacht, Firestorm ? It is? And where is she now?"
"Midway between Scotland and the mouth of the Baltic. I've kept her ready there since I first heard the phrase "Stockholm Syndicate". Jock will radio her to take on board provisions, check weapons and ammunition, above all equip her with a team of gunners. He's going to have a busy night is Jock. And now I'm hungry."
"You always are. It's chicken - cooked the way you like it. I suppose tomorrow we'll watch them plotting Litov's movements on the map."
"More than that. Later tomorrow we're visiting the Fixer in Bruges. He may be able to tell us who is the real power behind the Stockholm Syndicate."
Chapter Five
The Fixer. Dr. Henri Goldschmidt, dealer in rare coins, was one of Bruges' most eminent citizens. Beaurain estimated his present age at about sixty but could only guess - the doctor guarded his private life jealously and you dared not ask him the wrong question. The penalty was to be instantly crossed off his list of social acquaintances.
"They are excluded from my milieu ," he once explained. "And, of course, once excluded they can never be re-admitted."
He spoke eight languages fluently, including French, English and German; he also used his finely-shaped hands to aid his flow of conversation, gesturing with controlled deliberation to emphasize a point. He was the confidant of royalty, American millionaires and French industrialists. Less well-known was the fact that he was on good terms with some of Europe's top gangsters. This was the man Beaurain was going to meet.
One hour before dawn the huge Sikorsky helicopter took off from the Château Wardin. Litov - who had endured his last 'interrogation' at the hands of Dr. Alex Carder - was lying on a stretcher, as on the 'outward' journey, his damaged arm expertly protected with a splint and bandages and his left wrist and ankle handcuffed to the stretcher. His right ankle was also manacled.
There were two guards in the gunners' normal battle uniform - denim trousers, crepe-soled shoes, windcheaters and Balaclava helmets which completely masked their appearance. One was Stig Palme. The second was a twenty-nine year old German, Max Kellerman. A year earlier he had been looking forward to a brilliant career as a lawyer. Then his fiancée had been caught in terrorist crossfire when the police had been tipped off about a bank raid in Bonn. They were still unaware that the tip-off had come from Jules Beaurain. It was something he had also concealed from Kellerman, as he had once explained to Louise.
If Kellerman knew I started the whole thing off he might blame me for the death of his fiancée."
Litov had been blindfolded before he left the large cell he had occupied for over a week. Once again he was relying on sound and his sense of smell to double-check what he had learned about Telescope's main base. The same bonfire smoke had hit his nostrils when they carried him from the
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